


And So It's Been Said Many Times, Many Ways

by DaughterofElros



Series: Happy Hockey Days-- Holiday Vignettes [1]
Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Christmas, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:12:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of a collection of Yuletide moments around the league, all inspired by beloved holiday songs</p><p>Sid and Geno finish decorating their tree</p><p>Musical Inspiration: The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So It's Been Said Many Times, Many Ways

**Author's Note:**

> You see, I like Christmas entirely too much. And I like Hockey entirely too much. And so really, this was inevitable.
> 
> Thanks to Liandria for the Beta! Remaining mistakes are entirely mine.

“I like it.” Sid declares, glancing around the living room. “It’s…nice.”

 

“Told you.” Geno says, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Cassie is very good decorator. Make house look like home. Nice home. Not Sid home.”

 

“Hey!” Sid protests, “My house isn’t even finished.”

 

“Your house never be finished. Still be living in Mario’s guest room if not stay with me.” Sid narrows his eyes a bit, but he can’t get too bothered by the chirp, given that it’s pretty much true. “You know,” Geno continues “You should hire Cassie when you do finish house. She best in Pittsburgh.”

 

Geno kind of has a point, though Sid doesn’t need to stroke his overinflated ego by telling him so. Sid’s always shied away from decorators and all that because he hates feeling like the space he’s living in isn’t him. At least bare walls and borrowed rooms are sort of an excuse- like he’ll get around to decorating. Eventually. It's just that he hates the idea of picking out things that homes are supposed to have, like hand towels and guest soaps and things that add “interest”.

 

But Geno likes those sorts of things. He likes fancy windows, and actual paintings on the walls. He likes having picture frames or statues or candles on the end tables, and expensive furniture that probably sniffs and turns its nose up at the mention of places like box stores or Ikea. And he likes to decorate for Christmas. Nevermind that he’s told Sid that Christmas wasn’t something that they went out of their way to celebrate when he was a kid. Never mind that Russians don’t actually celebrate Christmas on December 25th. Geno loves the lights and the sparkle of the holiday.

 

Sid is used to hastened celebrations because Christmas comes smack dab in the middle of the hockey season, but it’s always been homey and comfortable. They’d have a tree decorated with ornaments that they collected over the years, down to the ones that he and Taylor had made as kids which shed glitter from ‘creatively’ arranged Popsicle sticks. He’d been resistant to Geno’s suggestion that they hire a decorator. In the end, he’d capitulated, because Geno wanted the house to look festive, and his point that they wouldn’t have time to do it themselves because of their road schedule was an irrefutable one. He’d sighed, agreed, and hoped for the best, figuring he could live with it as long as they didn’t return from practice to find the entire place covered in tinsel, or the living room hosting a twelve foot tree decked out with pink ornaments and feathers (he’d seen that before, okay. What exactly was supposed to be “Victorian” about bubble gum pink?

 

As it turned out though, he actually liked the results. It’s a change to see the banister wrapped with pine garland, and the vases and things filled with greens and pine cones and berries scattered around on various surfaces. It’s a pleasant change though. The wreathes in the front are nice, just classic green with red bows (and mercifully no fake snow) so he approves of those as well. What he likes most though is that Cassie set the tree up in the living room and decorated it with lights and red glass balls so that it looks perfect at first glance. On the coffee table is a little box filled with the handful of special ornaments that Geno has, so they can finish the decorating together.

 

So that’s what they spend the next half  hour doing, and it’s kind of like being a kid again.And okay, maybe they’re not entirely up on the typical holiday traditions, because they’ve got hockey on the TV instead of the other offerings that their cable package suplied of “Rudolph’s Shiny New Year” and “Christmas Vacation” (The latter one is out because Geno’s not a big fan of the “Cat in a box” joke, and Sid knows better by now than to attempt explaining why it’s supposed to be funny.)

   


But the TV’s on mute, and they’ve got Christmas Carols playing while they crack open one of the bottles of red wine they’d bought when Mario and Nathalie came to dinner last week, the one that Sid and Mario are both overly fond of. It works for them, this off-beat brand of normalcy, and Sid is slowly getting to the point where he doesn’t question when things work, he just accepts them. It wasn’t really ever what he would have planned, spending a night sitting on an overpriced sofa with Geno plastered snugly to his side, lanky legs tucked under his body and his arm propped on the back of the couch, holding up his head as he shifts his attention between Sid and the highlights on the screen.

 

Sid can feel himself begin to settle, melting a bit into the warmth beside him while he glances over the twinkling lights. Suddenly, Geno’s elbow digs into his side excitedly.

 

“This your song!” he exclaims. It takes Sid a moment to process that, and even so, he can’t see how a song about roasting chestnuts is particularly definitive of Sidney Crosby.

 

“What?”

 

“Offering this simple phrase, to kids from one to ninety-two” Geno quotes as the verse plays again. “You Sid the kid. This is song for you.”

 

It startles a laugh out of Sid, the odd connection that Geno has made, and he leans over to brush his lips against Geno’s.

 

“Merry Christmas.” He murmurs, thoroughly amused. Geno’s hand slides to the back of his neck, coaxing him in for another kiss. He goes readily, savoring the slow slide of wine-sweetened lips against his own.

 

“С Рождеством” Geno replies, and Sid can feel his lips spread into a happy grin. “Merry Christmas, Sid.”

 

  


_ The Christmas Song _  


  
_ _   
_Chestnuts roasting on an open fire_   
_Jack Frost nipping at your nose_   
_Yuletide carols being sung by a choir_   
_And folks dressed up like Eskimos_   


  
_Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe_   
_Help to make the season bright_   
_Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow_   
_Will find it hard to sleep tonight_   


  
_They know that Santa's on his way_   
_He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh_   
_And every mother's child is gonna spy_   
_To see if reindeer really know how to fly_   


  
_And so I'm offering this simple phrase_   
_To kids from one to ninety-two_   
_Although it's been said many times_   
_Many ways, Merry Christmas to you_   


  
_And so I'm offering this simple phrase_   
_To kids from one to ninety-two_   
_Although it's been said many times_   
_Many ways, Merry Christmas to you_   


 


End file.
